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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24888241">A Night in the City</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoowriterfic/pseuds/spoowriterfic'>spoowriterfic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wynonna Earp (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:01:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,867</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24888241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoowriterfic/pseuds/spoowriterfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a tough week, Waverly, Nicole, and Wynonna decide a night of miniature golf in the city is just what the doctor ordered.</p>
<p>It goes just as well as you would expect (especially when you turn miniature golf into a drinking game).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Waverly Earp &amp; Wynonna Earp, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Wynonna Earp &amp; Nicole Haught</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Night in the City</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There is no real timeline for this, other than "after 'I Fall to Pieces,'" though even that is just a tiny throwaway line (and the fact that Robin exists, if off-"screen").</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To be fair, it <em>had</em> been a long week, and in theory a little R&amp;R <em>would</em> have been a good idea.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After all, there’d been that gang of vampires terrorizing the kids on Fourth Street just to flaunt their presence to Wynonna.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then there was the actual, honest-to-God leprechaun that broke all the windows on Sixth because it hated its own reflection.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And of course the ‘werewolf’ which, it had turned out, had been the Hardys’ new and very-badly-trained hunting dog.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So on the surface, a night of frivolous fun mini-golfing in the city didn’t <em>seem</em> like such a bad idea.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But then Wynonna had mentioned – apparently in passing – that she was ‘<em>really, really good</em>’ at miniature golf. Nicole’s gaze sharpened and she turned to face Wynonna with a raised eyebrow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As soon as she saw that, Waverly sat down next to Jeremy at his desk, shaking her head in despair. She knew where this was going; there was no stopping it now. Nicole’s competitiveness combined with Wynonna’s delight in egging her on…well, the outcome was all but inevitable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Indeed, they sat and listened as Wynonna and Nicole compared scores, techniques, and increasingly implausible golf stories – Waverly was sure Wynonna’s were totally made up, given that she’d spent a large part of her childhood bouncing from foster home to juvie to foster home, but Nicole had either forgotten or had chosen to ignore how improbable it was that Wynonna had ever played much at all…let alone enough to be an ‘expert’ at it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are – are you sure this is a good idea?” Jeremy whispered as the discussion turned to the nuances of miniature golf clubs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Absolutely not.” She shrugged at the puzzled look on his face. “I want them to get along,” she said, a touch helplessly but with a gleam of probably misplaced optimism in her eyes at the same time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But…is <em>this</em>…?” Waverly put her hands up in a “who knows” gesture. “Okay, but for the record, I think Robin and I are gonna sit this one out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Probably for the best.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They sat silently listening to Nicole and Wynonna bicker as they looked up mini-golf courses in the city; apparently choosing the right one was Very Serious Business. After watching the discussion for a few minutes, Jeremy asked, “Sure <em>you</em>don’t want to sit it out?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> “Well, there should be someone there who…who isn’t Wynonna or Nicole. I mean, they get in a <em>lot</em> of trouble when they’re alone with each other.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Call us if you need bail.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly sighed. “Yeah.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re on your own if there’s lovesick garden gnomes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly rolled her eyes and slapped him on the shoulder.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>They’d just paid and collected their equipment when Wynonna planted her club against the ground, leaning on it and surveying the others as Waverly wrapped an arm around Nicole’s waist and pressed against her, shivering slightly in the light breeze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So here’s the rules – ” Wynonna began, but stopped and rolled her eyes as Nicole held up a hand for silence as she slipped out of her jacket and helped Waverly put it on instead. “You’re ridiculous.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s cold!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s just a little nippy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s <em>cold</em> – ” Nicole repeated just as Wynonna added:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“ – and you owe me for all the jokes I’m <em>not</em> making right now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole rolled her eyes and held up the score card in her hand in an obvious attempt at changing the subject. “<em>Anyway</em>, I think the rules are right here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly smiled gratefully at Nicole as she zipped up the jacket. “First of all, are the rules even in question?” she asked, but Nicole and Wynonna both just stared at her in silence. “Okay, okay, but…you know, maybe we…don’t keep score? Just…have fun?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She knew it was a lost cause even before Wynonna’s and Nicole’s jaws simultaneously dropped in horror, though for more or less opposite reasons. Waverly knew perfectly well that Wynonna would happily ditch the rules – any rules – if it served her purpose. And at the same time, to suggest ignoring the rules entirely to <em>Nicole Haught</em> was just a total non-starter – and the thought of playing a competitive game without winners or losers was beyond comprehension to both of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Especially if they were playing against each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>This</em>…. Of all things, <em>this</em> is what you agree on?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We can’t <em>not</em> keep score,” Wynonna said stubbornly, thumping her golf club against the ground for emphasis.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right!” Nicole agreed. “They wouldn’t give us these,” she added, holding up the score card again, “if we weren’t supposed to keep score.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly opened her mouth to protest, to say something along the lines of ‘<em>well, they never met the two of you</em>,’ but thought better of it. “Well…then can’t we just…” She waved her hands. “…play by the regular rules?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where’s the fun in <em>that</em>?” scoffed Wynonna.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole, meanwhile, shrugged amiably and asked, “What’d you have in mind?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Winner of each hole takes a shot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Winner</em> of each hole?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh God,” Waverly sighed to herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure,” Wynonna said over her. “I’m a mini-golf pro. And I wanna take some shots, so…winner takes the shot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “Who says you’d win? I think <em>I’ll</em> be taking the shots.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jeremy was right,” Waverly muttered under her breath. “I should’ve stayed home and just bailed you both out in the morning.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let’s go,” Wynonna said, turning towards the first hole and ignoring Waverly’s comment. “There is one other thing we agree on, you know, Baby Girl,” she added over her shoulder, a gentler look in her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah? What’s that?” Waverly asked warily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole wrapped an arm around her. “We both love you more than anything,” Nicole said, grinning when Wynonna fake gagged in front of her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly shook her head but couldn’t help but smile.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The first hole was relatively easy – a straightaway with a slight hump in the middle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole got a hole in one.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See!” she crowed, triumphant, stepping back so Waverly could take her second shot. “Told you I’d – ”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wynonna cut her off by handing her an already-filled shot glass with a scowl that turned to glee when Nicole flinched away from the scent with a deeply-offended look. “I thought I told you I never wanted to taste peppermint schnapps ever again in my entire life.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wynonna waved the shot glass under Nicole’s nose with a devilish grin. “Coulda been <em>oooooouuuuzzzzzooooo</em>,” she taunted in a sing-song voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole downed the shot, then shuddered and shook her head with a look of disgust. Then: “Wait. Did – did you lose this hole on purpose?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who, me?” Wynonna asked, the picture of wide-eyed innocence. “You got a hole in one fair and square, Haught Shot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Waverly heard her snicker as they followed Nicole to the next hole and shook her head with a resigned sigh.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The second hole upped the ante a bit; it was still a straightaway but this time the area around the hole was a slightly raised platform that meant overshooting the hole would result in the ball rolling all the way down to the back, where a rectangular area jutted out to contain it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ugh,” Wynonna said, shuddering. “Why do you <em>like</em> this stuff?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole shook her head as she took her third shot, sinking her ball into the hole even though it clipped Waverly’s on the way. “Sorry, baby,” she said, then added to Wynonna, “And I <em>don’t</em> like that stuff – only reason I drank it before was because I was going along with your half-baked plan to get DNA off that Revenant. You’re the one who told him you wanted ‘Christmas in a bottle.’ <em>And</em> you’re the one who made me take a shot of ouzo after all those shots of cheap tequila! Do you <em>know</em> how disgusting licorice tastes after tequila? Or…in general…?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wynonna rolled her eyes. “Did you <em>want</em> me to let the Revenants kill us?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole scowled. “Cash, Wynonna.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, please,” Wynonna scoffed. Neither of them had noticed Waverly finally sinking her own ball on her fourth shot. “Since when do I actually think through my plans?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly stepped between the two of them, silencing Nicole’s retort with a quick kiss that immediately loosened the tension in her shoulders and brought a soft smile to her face. “Maybe we should go to the next hole?” Waverly suggested, taking Nicole’s hand.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole peered suspiciously into the bottle of beer Wynonna had taken out, improbably, from inside her leather jacket, which had already produced a shot glass, a bottle of tequila and a smaller bottle of peppermint schnapps. “Sure you took that last shot?” she asked, frowning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You say that like I would cheat at a drinking game.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole leveled her with a look. “It’d be faster for you to list the things you <em>don’t</em> cheat at.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wynonna put the beer back into her inner jacket pocket and tapped her ball into the hole, rolling her eyes as she did so. “Just take the damn shot, Haught.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Or…don’t?” Waverly suggested, knowing it was futile. “Maybe we just play miniature golf?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole sighed, grabbed the bottle of tequila out of Wynonna’s hand, and gulped down a healthy mouthful while firmly holding Wynonna’s gaze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m beginning to understand how you two get into so much trouble together,” Waverly muttered.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole won every hole from the third to the sixth, to Wynonna’s obvious delight and Waverly’s growing suspicion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The seventh hole was beginning to get tricky. There was a triangular bit of concrete jutting out from the left hand side of the straightaway, and the goal was to hit it in order to bank the ball to the right towards the green.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole scowled as her ball sailed easily into the hole on her second shot, while Wynonna’s and Waverly’s were way at the back of the green behind the concrete triangle as they’d missed their first try at the banking shot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re cheating, Wynonna.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wynonna ignored her while she took her sixth shot, sighing when it missed and picking it up to stick in her pocket. “I don’t cheat,” she said. “And, besides, why would I cheat to <em>lose</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bullshit. You cheated your way through an apocalypse. Also there’s no way I beat you again when <em>my</em> hole is moving and yours is standing still.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wynonna handed Nicole another shot, but said quietly to Waverly, “I know you won’t believe me, but I really am trying to win…at least some of the time. She’s some kind of drunk mini-golf prodigy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly sighed.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>By the tenth hole, which was a castle, Nicole was both well and truly soused and yet consistently trounced Wynonna and Waverly even though she repeatedly complained about all the stationary objects – the hole, the green, the obstacles – that were ‘moving.’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole was currently lining up her second shot; her ball had confidently sailed across a drawbridge, into the castle and down a pipe to the lower level, where it rolled to a stop just shy of the hole. Wynonna and Waverly’s shots both missed the drawbridge and had gone down the alternate pipes to the sides of the green.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Baby,” Nicole whined. “Make the hole stop moving.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh boy,” Waverly said; Wynonna just snickered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole waved her hands for emphasis, forgetting she was still holding her club in one hand, and only Waverly’s quick reflexes prevented her from getting whacked on the leg. “Come on,” Nicole cajoled, “use your angel powers to stop it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly tried to suppress a grin, but failed, instead rolling her eyes when Wynonna caught her badly-hidden amusement and winked at her.  “Honey,” Waverly said patiently, “they don’t work on miniature golf courses.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole pouted, but turned and sank her ball into the hole anyway. “I won!” she said, then frowned. “Wait, that means I hafta take another shot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your turn,” Waverly said pointedly to Wynonna. “<em>Your</em> hole isn’t moving, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She lined up her own shot with a smirk. “You do realize there’s about a thousand sex jokes I could make about that statement, don’t you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Take the shot, sis.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole, who had been intently studying her shoelaces, lifted her head. “Make sure she doesn’t spit it back like in that movie <em>Ugly Coyote</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Coyote Ugly</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s what I said.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly said, “I meant take her shot at the ball, honey. You already won this hole, remember?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh yeah.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>By the twelfth hole, Waverly had stopped playing, concentrating instead on shepherding Nicole from hole to hole as she got increasingly drunk. She’d lost a total of three holes out of twelve, and while Wynonna was a bit tipsy, she’d definitely taken the brunt of their little outing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop hitting my ball with your ball!” Wynonna griped as Nicole carelessly swung her club back and forth as she waited for Wynonna to take her second shot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not doing it on purpose!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just wait for me to take the damn shot, Haught!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We don’t know who takes this shot yet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wynonna rolled her eyes. “No, I mean don’t hit your ball until I hit my ball!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In a moment of surprising lucidity, Nicole muttered, “There’s a sex joke in there somewhere.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My life is a sex joke. Also your sex jokes shouldn’t – ”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Guys,” Waverly interrupted, handing Nicole her club back now that it was her turn.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Girls.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly stopped and stared at Nicole in confusion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I like girls,” she said, shrugging. “Not guys.” Then she frowned. “Wait, you guys know that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just meant – ” She cut herself off as Nicole took her first shot; it went wild, as had Wynonna’s. She sighed. “Okay. Will you two please finish up this hole so the people behind us can take a turn?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s no one behind us,” Wynonna protested from the area behind their hole, where she was digging her own ball out of the grass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fudgenuggets. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Five minutes later, Nicole finally tapped her ball into the hole. “You won! You take the shot!” Wynonna said, having just pocketed her own ball.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nuh uh. You won.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I lost count of my strokes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sex joke there too somewhere.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Call it a tie. We both take a shot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly took both of them firmly by the arm and led them towards the next hole. “They’re gonna have alcohol poisoning by the time we’re done,” she muttered to herself.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The holes were growing trickier as they went, which posed a problem for Waverly’s increasingly inebriated companions, who had ‘tied’ three more holes. By the sixteenth hole, the game resembled miniature golf in name only.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait,” Nicole said with a frown, looking down at the astroturf below her. “Which ball is mine?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The blue one, honey. Remember? It’s your favorite color.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, about that,” Wynonna said, swaggering over and pulling at the sleeve of the dark- and light-blue plaid flannel she was wearing. “Do you have any civvies that <em>aren’t</em> blue?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have a pink jacket!” She stumbled over a raised area in the straightaway towards the green, giving Waverly a peck on the cheek when she caught her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wynonna rolled her eyes. “And who bought it for you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole glanced around in confusion, her golf club held loosely in her left hand. “Waverly, of course.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course,” Wynonna snorted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole took a shot which bounced right out of the green and into the grass. She followed it, stumbling over the edge of the course when she looked back to say, “And my unicorn t-shirt. That’s not blue.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And who bought <em>that</em> for you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicole dropped her ball back onto the green. “Waverly. ‘Cause she said I wasn’t a unicorn. ‘Cause I’m a les…lesbee…lesbian…instead.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh boy,” Waverly muttered.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>           </p>
<p>By the seventeenth hole, the last actual hole before the eighteenth, which was just a way for the course to collect the golf balls, even Wynonna was beginning to show the effects of the alcohol.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Damn hole won’t <em>stay still</em>!” Nicole muttered, increasingly frustrated, oblivious to Wynonna’s third attempt at her first shot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Baby,” Waverly said gently, “You have to hit the ball if you want it to go in the hole.” Nicole frowned at her, confused. Waverly wrapped her hands around the club and quickly stepped back on the (correct) assumption that muscle memory would take over and Nicole would remember what to do with it only to get hit on the arm with the club Wynonna was twirling like a majorette’s baton.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly shook her head and sat down on the bench by the rubber ‘tee’, watching as Wynonna and Nicole turned their last hole into something that resembled field hockey more than it did miniature golf.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“So how’d it go?” Jeremy asked warily as Waverly collapsed into the chair across from him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well…no one got arrested,” Waverly said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly shrugged. “Coulda been worse. Wynonna’s hungover. Nicole’s <em>really</em> hungover. And other than a few bruises from rogue golf clubs, none of us got hurt, so…good?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jeremy shook his head. “We have <em>weird</em> definitions of good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waverly laughed. “Not weird. Flexible.” She looked up when Wynonna dropped into the chair across from her with a groan and a scowl. “Very…<em>very</em> flexible.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Enough with the sex jokes,” Wynonna muttered.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>1. I don't often go for frivolous comedy, but after three months of building an online curriculum for my students from scratch thanks to the sudden and unexpected shift to distance learning....*shrug emoji*</p>
<p>2. If you enjoyed this story, you actually have my brother to thank for the premise. He and I live together (I am his guardian due to him having intellectual disabilities) and one of his favorite things to do on the weekends, pre-COVID, was to go to our local miniature golf course. He's an Earper too and on our last trip, he said he thought it would be funny to see Wynonna and Nicole going miniature golfing. I like to think he was right.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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